


shadows of the world

by llwydion



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Black Org, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, TEMPORARY Hiatus, are you ready for this, because i was not ready for this, creepy children's rhymes, dark!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-01-17 15:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llwydion/pseuds/llwydion
Summary: “I told you to be a round-eyed, good child, didn’t I, Edogawa Conan-kun? Should I call you KID-killer instead? Or do you prefer something less childish?”He stares at the figure, so familiar to him and yet so foreign.“What would you prefer, hm? The Heisei Holmes? Detective of the East? The savior of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force? Vermouth’s darling silver bullet? Kudou Shinichi-san? What was that phrase you said? It’s always the little things, the ones that we overlook, that are the most important."“All this time, all these months, it was you?”





	1. Tom, he was a piper's son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have the beginnings of a plot.

_Tom, he was a piper's son,_

_He learnt to play when he was young_

* * *

He first learns of the existence of That Person when he is Kudou Shinichi, although he doesn’t realize it at the time.

A normal couple, living in a two story building in Ekoda City. The husband was a world-class magician; the wife was a normal housewife. Then one day, eight years ago, the husband was mysteriously murdered during one of his shows. The Yoshikawa lines found on the victim’s neck and torn skin found under his fingernails suggest that he died of strangulation, but witnesses say that there was absolutely no rope used. He apparently clutched at the air around his neck, struggled for a few seconds, and died on-stage while onlookers stared on, terrified and confused.

“Terribly dramatic”, an old lady half-whispers. “Completely unexpected, and oh, the horror!”

The autopsy states that he was poisoned. The unusual paralysis of the muscles and evidence of asphyxiation suggests that the victim came into contact with a nerve agent, probably through dermal transmission as opposed to inhalation, since no audience members reported any symptoms. Since production and stockpiling of the G-series of nerve agents was fully outlawed in 1993, the coroner believed that VX was used.

“The nerve of some foreigners nowadays, smuggling such deadly, illegal things in,” she continues.

The case is opened once more, eight years later, because another one happened. And this time, it was the wife, who had been living overseas in Las Vegas, America, but was visiting her son in Ekoda. She was out shopping when it happened. Again, the victim choked to death as her own body betrayed her.

“It’s a strange case, and we can’t understand it. Kuroba Chikage was a widowed housewife who was in a busy shopping mall. Had no grudges with anyone; was a great neighbor and mother. And here’s the crime scene. What do you think, Shinichi-kun?” Inspector Megure asks.

He studies the crime scene for a while, notes the white lines where the body once lay, reads the signs of her struggle in the rubber marks on tile that she has left behind. He sees the fallen Fusae purse, the cracked slim silver smartphone, and the single silver earring on the floor. The police sergeant hands him pictures of the crime scene.

The victim is curled up on her side, both hands clutching her throat. He gets a strange sense of déjà vu, like he’s seen this position before.

On a whim, he asks Inspector Megure if there are pictures of the Kuroba Toichi case.

“That old case? Well, yes, but they’re at the station. I’ll have to give them to you when we get back there. Anything more you need from here, or are you done?”

“I’m done, Inspector. Now let’s look at the pictures from the case eight years ago.”

* * *

The position Kuroba Toichi died in was exactly the same as the position his wife died in, down to the positioning of their hands (right over left), the way the hair fanned out behind the head, and the small sliver of a single opened eye. The only difference was their outfits: Kuroba Toichi had been wearing a black tuxedo, and Kuroba Chikage was wearing an off-white sundress.

“And no one approached the victim in either case after they died?”

“That’s right. In Kuroba Toichi’s case, he was on stage so it was difficult for anyone to climb up there and rearrange his corpse. In his wife’s case, the security guard is a former police officer, so he stopped anyone from approaching and notified us.”

“Then the only explanation is that it’s a dying message meant to show us that the killer was the same in both cases.”

“Sir!” Detective Takagi rushes up to them in the hallway, holding the Ziploc bag with the victim’s silver phone. “We just got a call on this phone!”

“Did we get a recording of what the other side said?”

“Yes, it’s on my phone.” He pulls out his own phone, enters his passcode (Shinichi guessed a while ago that it was 7286 for S-A-T-O; he’s right), and presses play. A voice, digitally distorted, speaks.

_“It’s me. That person was looking for you.”_

_Male, by the use of “boku”. By “you”, Kuroba Chikage. That person, their boss?_

A few seconds of silence. _Waiting for a code word as a reply?_

_“Shit.”_

_Code words. A criminal organization, for sure._

Then a beep, and nothing.

“That person?”

“No idea who he could be.”

“Or her, Inspector. It could be a woman.”

“Well, that didn’t help us much.” Inspector Megure looks disappointed.

“No, whoever was on the other end has probably been tipped off already as to her death, since she didn’t respond. Judging by the few seconds of silence, he was expecting her to respond, probably using a code word or something similar. Since she didn’t, he knows that something’s off, and since all phones have a GPS tracking function he probably tracked it, found that the phone was with the police, and deduced that she had been murdered. They also could have bugged the phone, but since it’s already been inspected thoroughly, it’s unlikely.”

 _That, or they have someone on the inside_ was the other possibility, left unspoken.

“I guess that’s the last lead we have as to who murdered her then. Unless you have any clues, Shinichi-kun?”

“There are a few things that were strange. The victim is in the exact same pose as her husband, for one. The only person to approach the corpse after her death was the former police officer, and there were many eyewitnesses, so it’s unlikely that he was the killer. You’re looking for someone who was in contact with the victim recently who could have given her something laced with the nerve gas. It also had to be disposed of right away in a way that wouldn’t harm others.”

He recalls a pleasant-faced woman distributing tissues earlier.

“Say, wasn’t there that employee handing out free tissues in the mall? She’s probably your killer.”

Both of them stare at him. “How do you know?”

“Since the victim’s purse didn’t contain anything other than basic necessities, and none of those had nerve gas on them, it must have been something she had been handed just moments before and tossed right after. There were no other employees handing out flyers or things like that, and Chikage-san hadn’t planned to meet with anyone in particular, based on a lack of calls or messages to her phone in the past few hours. Therefore it must be that employee. If you check the nearby trash cans you should also find a nerve gas-laced pack of tissues, but be careful, it’ll be open.”

The employee is indeed the killer, and confesses as much in a burst of angry tears. She was an aspiring magician at one point, and was jealous of Kuroba Toichi’s skill. So she killed him eight years ago, and when she saw Kuroba Chikage looking at a magic book a week ago in the very same shopping mall she began hatching a plan to kill her too.

And so that was the end of it.

Something still felt off, like he was seeing the case through a slightly tilted window, but then he realized the city’s karate championship was today and Ran would be furious if he missed this one too.

* * *

“Boss, it’s me, Gin.”

“Oh, Gin! What now?”

“We caught Kudou Shinichi sneaking up on us as we made that trade at that place tonight, so we dealt with the rat.”

“So he’s dead? Aw, that’s no fun anymore. Oh well.”

“What are your next orders?”

“Send Snake out to the next KID heist. It’s time to let the public learn of KID’s enemies.”

“Yes, Boss.”

* * *

  _And all the tune that he could play_

_Was 'over the hills and far away'_

* * *

_Snipers Open Fire on Crowd at Kaitou KID Heist! No Injuries Reported._

Kogorou Mouri flips open the newspaper past the headline article. “Man, what’s the world coming to these days? First you have that incident last week at Tropical Land where the police caught three drug dealers, and this week it’s snipers firing at a crowd?”

Mouri Ran slams an ashtray down in front of him. “At least no one was injured, right, Conan?”

“Uh, yeah, Ran-neechan! It’s a good thing.”

“Thankfully, since Sonoko was there in the crowd too. Apparently the snipers started firing at KID first, but as he made his escape they turned on the crowd. I wonder what’s going to happen at the next one.”

Secretly, he wonders. It’s no coincidence that he was fed the drug at Tropical Land on the same day, because the men in black wouldn’t have been carrying that drug for a simple trade off. Maybe the drug dealers saw something, and those men had to make them disappear. After all, it was supposed to make him mysteriously vanish, probably by killing him, but since it had unexpected side effects he had merely shrunk instead. And now there were snipers at the KID heist? Snipers which miraculously didn’t hit anyone in the crowd, or their initial target? These two incidents happened only a week apart as well. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, which meant that the Black Organization was after Kaitou KID as well, for some unknown reason. Maybe they were also after whatever KID was. A gem of some sort?

Edogawa Conan resolved to corner Kaitou KID at his next heist to thoroughly question him. Then he has to hurry off to school, because Ran won’t let him stay at home with her dad. She’s very particular about him getting a “proper education”.

* * *

As if Kaitou KID read his thoughts, another heist notice appears in the papers the very next morning.

_Kaitou KID’s Next Target: Who Will Stop Him?_

Below is a blown-up picture of the heist notice that Suzuki Jirokichi, “collector extraordinare of the finest gems in the world” (according to the _Beika Shimbun_ ), received in the mail the morning after he acquired yet another famous gemstone.

_Have faith, dear audience, and you shall see_

_This gemstone, a red beauty_

_Bloom like rosy-cheeks and disappear._

It seems almost too simple at first. KID will appear at Uncle Jirokichi’s house, steal the Reward of Faith (“have faith” and “red beauty” gave it away), and call it a day. “Bloom like rosy-cheeks” for the English phrase “rosy-cheeked dawn”. Thus, KID was going to steal the jewel at dawn.

He explains this to Uncle Jirokichi over the phone.

“You sure about this, kid?”

“Well, it seems a bit too easy this time. Maybe I’ve got something wrong.”

“Heh, I doubt it! KID’s probably bored by the idiocy of the general public, that’s why he lowered the difficulty. Anyways, I’ll have my best men guard it, as usual. And of course, you’re invited. Just don’t go stealing my cover photo, alright, Mister KID-killer?”

Conan laughs nervously into the phone. No doubt the heist will end with his face plastered all over the daily news once more, as it does every time.

Throughout the day, he keeps glancing at the heist notice, which he’s copied into his handy small notebook. Something is off. It’s too easy this time. Even the police could have (and indeed, they have) solved this one, and normally they overlook the clues like headless chickens running around a slaughter-yard missing the rice grains on the ground.

When he gets home, Ran is working through her assigned English homework. Today it’s a passage from a mythological tale.

“The earliest known variant of the Cinderella story is one recorded by Strabo, the Greek historian. In it, he told? Tells? Tells. Tells the story of a courtesan who, while bathing, has her shoe stolen by a falcon. No, eagle. The eagle carries it away and drops it in front of a certain king of a faraway land, and, he being the curious person he is, goes to find the maiden whose shoe he has received. The girl’s name is Rhodopis, meaning rosy cheeks. He finds her and they are happily married.”

_Rosy cheeks? Wait._

“Ran- _neechan_ , could you read that last part again?”

“Which part? The one about them being happily married, or the part about her shoe?”

“What her name meant. It’s such a strange name!”

“Ok, where was it? Ah, here. ‘The girl’s name is Rhodopis, meaning rosy cheeks.’ Is that what you were asking about?”

But his mind was already whirring away at the possibilities. He writes it down on paper (“How do you spell it?” “R-H-O-D-O-P-I-S. What’s this for?” “Haha, nothing. I just want to surprise Mitsuhiko, he’s been asking about riddles recently.”) and takes it upstairs with him.

_Bloom like rosy-cheeks. Rhodopis, rosy cheeks. Earliest recorded variant of the Cinderella story. And all together now, what time does Cinderella disappear?_

He immediately calls Uncle Jirokichi.

“Moshi moshi, I’m not interested in talking to any more reporters!”

“Uncle, it’s Conan. I think I’ve made a mistake with the KID heist note.”

And so he explains his reasoning, Uncle Jirokichi gladly tells his men to prepare for KID’s midnight appearance instead, and the evening comes all too soon. He’s comforted by the fact that KID doesn’t show up at dawn like the police were expecting, and Inspector Nakamori goes home yawning over a cup of coffee.

Besides, KID’s not the early morning type.

When Sonoko and company (meaning Ran and Conan) arrive on scene, Nakamori- _keibu_ is already red-faced and bellowing into a handheld transceiver.

“I want everyone’s cheeks pinched. Everyone’s! No exceptions this time!”

Indistinct shouting on the other end.

“What do you mean, you can’t because he’s resisting? Just grab the old coot’s face already! And who let the brat in again?”

“I did, Inspector. Now where’s my uncle?”

“Ah, Sonoko- _san_. One second while we check your faces.”

A firm pinch on the cheek accompanied by a tug at the nose and much muttering about “brats these days getting involved in what they shouldn’t”, and they were allowed through.

“Your uncle is in the room with the jewel, on the second floor. Make sure he gets checked too!”

As they leave, they hear him shouting again, this time at the reporters.

* * *

 Uncle Jirokichi refuses to show them the traps. “It’s better if fewer people know about it, that way KID will get caught for sure!”

Conan checks his watch. 11:53. Seven more minutes until the phantom appears once more.

It’s a tense, anxious seven minutes. Conan can’t stop twitching. Jirokichi is off somewhere, blustering in front of his security guards or something. Nakamori is quietly, furiously growling into a handset. All that tension is going to cause him acid reflux in his old age and ulcers in about six months if he doesn’t do something about it. He should also stop his habitual drinking problem; his daughter’s mad at him.

And he really needs to stop analyzing people he works with on a semi-regular basis, or he’ll end up saying something at some point that he’ll regret.

Outside, the crowd is counting down.

It’s like a twisted, insane version of a New Year’s Party, where they’re counting down for the guest of honor, the most notorious jewel thief of a century.

Exactly at midnight, just as the crowd hits zero outside, a bang and a puff of pink smoke on the top of the building opposite the Suzuki Hotel. A figure dressed all in white appears, and the crowd breaks into wild screaming and cheering.

They play the usual game; KID evades and dodges, Conan pursues and realizes, and KID was Hakuba tonight – no one saw that coming, not even Conan. He pulls off Hakuba so well, it’s like they interact in real life or something.

And finally, as usual, Conan corners KID on the rooftop as he is holding the gem up to the moonlight. It’s a pretty gem, the Reward of Faith. It’s a pinkish-reddish which shimmers faintly in a white-gloved hand, and KID lets out a little sigh as he tosses it to Conan.

“We meet again, _Tantei-kun_. I was looking forward to this, but it turned out to be yet another dead end. It was an interesting chase tonight, huh.”

Conan smirks. “And you won’t expect what’s coming next, will you, KID?”

He kicks the almost-invisible tripwire which immediately brings up barricades all around. KID looks a little startled at that and drops a flash bomb. Conan immediately throws his eyes shut to prevent blindness, and by the time it is safe to open them again, KID has fled through the stairwell. He follows, sliding down the banister almost gleefully in his rush to nab KID once more.

The halls are dark. KID’s cut the power. No worries, he’ll just flick on that handy dandy flashlight Prof. Agasa built in to the bowtie. He sees a flash of white rounding the corner up ahead, and he follows, heart pumping, legs churning.

KID leads him on a merry chase through darkened hallways where policemen stumble blind and Uncle Jirokichi bellows about getting the backup generator fixed for good. He’s almost out of breath when KID runs into a room lit by the glowing lights from the crowd outside.

“I… I hope you’ve certainly had enough running for tonight, KID,” he huffs out in between big lungfuls of air.

“Hope? Hope never ends, not until even memories disappear.”

Conan raises an eyebrow. KID’s in a strange mood tonight. His monocle glints menacingly.

And suddenly, a laser beam from across the street.

Conan’s body goes cold as he spots a man, dressed all in black, whose rifle sight is trained on KID’s top hat.

“KID, there’s a –”

The bullet whizzes by, cleanly shooting off the top hat. A trickle of blood runs down KID’s face as he tackles Conan to the floor away from the window.

Several tense minutes pass as they huddle against the wall. Finally, KID ventures a look out.

“Is he gone?”

“Thankfully. And he didn’t shoot at my audience, unlike the last one. Doesn’t look like he’s here for me.”

“Shit, this is all my fault.”

KID turns a quizzical eyebrow on him, and somehow Conan finds himself telling KID about the Black Org (without revealing anything about his original identity; he’s not dumb enough to risk KID’s life as well).

KID (whose black hair is tousled and mussed like he’s never seen a comb in his life, and whose head wound seemed to be shallow since it stopped bleeding a while ago) hums thoughtfully.

“Maybe they’re the same organization after me.”

He tells the story of Pandora, that legendary gem (without revealing anything about his own identity or that of the first KID’s; he’s not trusting enough either).

It’s a little quieter, a little more somber after that.

Below, the audience has grown restless, waiting for the reappearance of their beloved KID-sama.

“Well, I’ve got to appease the masses. Don’t forget, Kid-killer, act like a round-eyed, good child, and no one will suspect any better.” And with a wink, he tipped backwards out of the window. Conan could only watch as the white triangle, tipped with a splash of red, glided off into the night.

It’s only after KID’s glider is long gone that Conan realizes he left his top hat.

* * *

_Over the hills and a great way off,_

_The wind shall blow my top-knot off._


	2. Mistress Mary, quite contrary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are sleeping Kogoros, interesting development, and another heist! (not in that order, of course)

_Mistress Mary, quite contrary,_

_How does your garden grow?_

* * *

He’s lost in his thoughts for a while after that. KID leaving his top hat behind is akin to Conan taking off his glasses – he’ll never do it if he doesn’t need to, and it’s a way to hide from his pursuers. Well, in KID’s case, it’s not, but doesn’t he know there’s so much you can learn from a hat?

Conan’s been purposely not looking at it, because he knows if he does then he’ll pull a Sherlock Holmes and deduce some things about KID’s private life that are should stay hidden, at least from everyone who wants to capture him. So he covers it with a cloth and stuffs it in the back of his closet. Out of sight, out of mind, or so he hopes.

It’s not working.

Sighing, he turns around again to his desk to work on his absurdly easy homework.

* * *

It’s confirmed. Kudou Shinichi, no matter what age or stature or alias, is a death god. Wherever he goes, a corpse will follow. Sometimes the corpse is there on accident, but other times it seems too deliberate to be anything but a hint, like now.

The murder is reported at a typical apartment building in Beika, on the fourth floor. The renter who lived there was a young man who looked to be in his thirties, mild hair loss, no known significant other, heavy smoker. His landlady is an older woman in her forties or fifties who disapproved of his smoking habit but did so quietly because he always paid his rent on time and always took out the right trash on the right days. His closet was full of black suits, and his dresser full of white shirts. He had clean hands with slightly long yellow nails and calluses on the pad of his index finger and the joint of his middle finger, probably from writing memos on a semi-daily basis. Therefore, low-level salaryman at a large-ish corporation.

The man himself had an unremarkably plain face. No moles, small acne pockmarks on his left cheek. Hair cut and styled in a conservative fashion. Face frozen in a scream of pain, dried trails of bloody tears on the cheeks. Bloody, empty eye sockets.

“Inspector! From our brief overview, the victim died from shock, probably from the victim’s eyes being forcibly removed. He has no other external wounds, and no obvious traces of poison were found.”

“Alright, thank you. You can go now.” Inspector Megure sighs. It’s a truly gruesome murder, and somehow he also has to deal with Kogoro and his brat, who are already butting heads over yet another small detail.

“What have I done in my past life to deserve this?” he wonders, sallying forth to stop Conan from poking his nose into everything and being more scarred than he already is. Only six and already so used to crimes like this that make even Megure’s stomach churn. That boy is going to grow up with old eyes and an old, jaded heart. In fifteen years he’ll be the rising heartthrob of the Metropolitan Police Department, brilliant and cynical and overworked. It’s like watching a younger version of Shinichi become wearier with life as he learns how human passions can degrade even the best of minds into little more than beasts. It’s certainly done a number on him, and on Kogoro.

But there is never time for these morbid thoughts. Conan smirks, Kogoro sleeps, and the police learn that the killer is a woman of average height with blonde hair (strand of blonde hair found on the floor, average stride length by the two shoeprints left in a puddle of some viscous liquid spilled on the floor). She’s killed before, so not a crime of passion; it’s too calculating, too planned. Based on the position of the victim’s body (slumped against the glass balcony door, which he thought was odd and which evidently Kogoro thought so too), he was obviously expecting her, but not what she would do to him. The police investigate the victim’s personal life, but find no close friends or relatives who match that description. What friends and family they do find are duly saddened by his death, but not close enough to feel obligated to visit. They send out a search and arrest warrant, but to no avail.

Two days pass before another corpse falls in their path. Two glorious, blissfully crime-free days where he goes to school with Ran (“someone’s sleepy today, hm?”), meets up with the Detective Boys (“eeh, another murder? No fair, you get all the fun!”), goes through the motions of learning (“what’s two times two, class?”), goes home with Ran (“did you enjoy school today?”) and Sonoko (“hey, what’s this brat doing here again?”), and generally lives his life like he would. Kogoro’s in a slump: no new crimes knocking at his door, no new Okino Yoko shows to watch or record, and Ran’s taken away his allowance so no pachinko or horse racing he can blow his money on. In short, there’s absolutely nothing new or mysterious happening, and the part of Conan that is (used to be? He’s never sure these days) Shinichi is bored, and the rest of him agrees.

Ran-neechan, to cheer Conan up from his latest fit of boredom, decides they should have a family outing.

They’re at the Haido Shopping Center parking garage, scene to several previous crimes, when a woman who parked her car at the other end of the row screams and trips in her haste to move back from whatever she’s seen.

The three of them – Ran, Kogoro, and Conan – rush over, only to find that the young woman is screaming and pointing at the corpse of a middle-aged man which is staring at them, eyes wide and glazed over. Ran screams as well, and the cacophony echoes around the huge concrete structure.

“Stop! Nobody touch him. Ran, call the police! He’s been murdered.”

The man is bleeding from both sides of the head, and at first glance, his head looks oddly small. Again, it’s a man with typical salaryman features, nothing remarkable except for the twin streaks of red down either side of his head, right where his ears would normally be. Both ears have been sliced off, and the wound on the right side of the head is still bleeding sluggishly. The cartilage had been shaved off uncleanly, taking a bit of the skin around each ear with it as well, but the lack of mutilation indicates a quick, clean cut. A hasty job then. Someone who was in a rush. Rush to what? Escape? No one could have run away in a half-empty parking lot without seeming suspicious. Conceal their identity? The only one who had approached the body in the past few minutes was the young woman who was too terrified to do anything but sit and scream. Her handbag contained no sharp objects that could be used to inflict such a wound.

Back to the body. Wallet in the right back pocket but no identification. Ill-fitting black suit, tie two shades lighter, clean but scuffed leather shoes, unbranded. Wrinkles on his right jacket shoulder between the collarbone and the shoulder, larger scuffed area on the left side of his pants. White-collar office worker, right-handed, takes the subway to work. Carries a cross-body shoulder bag which has heavy materials – probably a laptop and some documents.

Conan looks around, but sees no such shoulder bag. He marks this as one interesting point in the case, and returns to scrutinizing the corpse.

Face scrunched up in a rictus of pain. Faint rope marks around the wrists and sticky tape residue around the mouth. That, combined with no other visible external wounds, meant that he was probably still alive when his ears were forcibly removed, and that he died of shock.

A single strand of ash blonde hair caught in the fold of his right lapel.

Blonde hair, typical salaryman as the victim, particularly macabre manner of death, no apparent killer. Coincidence?

He had been in this line of work for too long (and didn’t that speak volumes, to be so jaded at _sixteen_ ) to write this off as a mere coincidence. This was the work of the same murderer. And there was something about the specific body parts being targeted that reminded him of something, an English phrase…

As usual, Kogoro blathers on about the woman who discovered the body being the most suspicious one. The police arrive, Detective Takagi and the crew take in the crime scene, and they’re asked to provide their statements in the next few days at headquarters. No conclusion is reached as to the identity of either the killer or the salaryman. It’s all uncannily similar.

 _When there are two, there are three._ He doesn’t remember who told him this, a long time ago, but it’s someone he knew. Red lips, curving up into an unpleasant smile…

His head hurts. He needs a nap.

He stumbles home and dreams of darkness and fear and the knowledge that he’s playing into a trap, but he doesn’t know how it’ll spring or when. And as always, those same red lips, the same white, white teeth, wisps of blonde hair, and an unmarked black baseball cap. A whisper, something important, something that if only he could remember…!

He wakes up to a darkened room and a feeling of dissatisfaction. KID’s hat, tucked securely away in the back of the closet, niggles at his mind, but he squashes his curiosity down and stares at the ceiling until he falls asleep again.

* * *

The third body is discovered inside the quaint little Café Poirot, right when it opens on Saturday morning, and by Azusa-chan. The body is that of a young woman, about twenty five or so, grad school researcher in the pharmaceutical sciences at Touto University – simple really, the lab coat stitching gave it away. She’s sitting in a booth in the back corner, a cup of cold coffee in front of her. Her hand is clenched tightly around the handle, and the slight depression in the cushion of the seat across from her indicates there was a second person. Her head is slumped slightly forward, eyes closed, almost as if she fell asleep.

There’s a strong sleeping drug in her coffee (the capsule is partially melted but it’s still there) and black stitches across her lips (no lipstick on them, but there’s a tube of it in her purse, some cheap drugstore brand in a dull faded pink), surrounded by trickles of dried blood. There’s also a single blond hair lying innocuously on the polished varnish of the table.

Once more, once again. Really, it’s becoming a habit, going somewhere and running across a dead body. It can’t be anything but a hint, a huge hint, and he’s still missing something.

The police arrive, cordon off the café for the day, and again no conclusion is drawn as to the identity or motive of the killer. All in all, a fruitless Saturday, with nothing to show for it.

Then the newspaper arrives, clutched in the hand of a breathless Sonoko, and the headline startles them all into frenzied activity.

* * *

“Hey, Ran! And oh look, it’s the brat. Why do you always bring him with you?”

“It’s actually not my fault, or my dad’s, or Conan’s, this time. Your uncle asked that we bring him along. He called us yesterday to invite us all, but unfortunately Dad’s busy, so it’s just us two today.”

“Alright, well, if it’s _Uncle_ who said he could come…”

They walk down the hallway and up the stairs.

“Does your uncle have a copy of the heist note?”

“Yeah, he says he’s figured it out, and he’s out today rousing up a security detail. The police inspector is here too, and he’s pissed off, so try not to set him off, okay?”

Ran looks down at him, a stern warning on her lips.

“Yes, Ran-neechan, Sonoko-neechan, I’ll be good!”

Ran smiles and ruffles his hair.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

 _Hopefully_ , he adds in his mind. _Hopefully nothing will happen, KID will steal the gem and I’ll get to try and stop him, and everything goes well._

_Hopefully._

* * *

It all goes to shit as fast as he can blink. One moment, KID is dangling from the ceiling, reaching for the gem. Then the lights turn off, and in the dark there’s a pained grunt from somewhere above him. When the lights flick back on (“backup power is back from the generator! Quick, men, report in with the current state of things!”), KID is gone (but his top hat is there), and there are drops of blood forming a trail towards the window.

His blood runs cold at the sight of the thief’s blood. Only twice before has KID gotten hurt at one of his own heists, and he’s not the type to set up anything that involves physical injury to anyone.

He follows the trail, noting that it veers sharply up and into a conveniently placed vent at the corner of the room. There is no one in the vent, and he’s sure that KID is trying to bide his time until it’s safe to move.

“Hey, Mr. Police Officer? Do you have a map of the ventilation shafts in this building?”

“Why, if it isn’t little Conan! Here, why don’t I take you outside to wait by the police cars, and I can get someone to drive you out and get you some treats?”

 _Of all the times to pull this_ , he thinks.

“Sorry, Mr. Police Officer, but Uncle Jirokichi thinks it’s important!”

“Well, alright then. Here you go, and don’t lose it!”

The ventilation shafts are more complicated that he thought. They twist up and down, left and right, and obviously whoever designed this building put them in last and put little thought into where they would actually go.

He sees three likely spots. Based on the amount of time that has passed and the severity of the wound, KID’s probably hiding out in the vents above the room three doors down.

He returns the map to the police officer, tells him that Uncle Jirokichi really appreciated it, and bolts.

The door next to that room is ajar. Just a bit, but it is. Someone is sitting in there, talking on a phone. The lights are on, but the speaker is looking out the window and facing away from the doorway, and Conan decides to sneak a peek.

The man is middle-aged and powerfully built. He’s wearing the uniform of an officer, but it’s clear from the way it bunches around the shoulders and the way he keeps shifting from one foot to the other that that’s not his usual outfit.

_The question becomes, then, who wants to impersonate a police officer?_

It’s not KID; KID’s hiding in the vents and hasn’t yet come out. Plus, KID’s usually better about finding uniforms that fit.

It’s not one of Uncle Jirokichi’s hired hands either; they were split into pairs and told to stick together for the entire evening. Plus, it doesn’t seem like he would give his mercenaries such a new model of a phone, just for this.

There remains one possibility, and one only.

 _This is the man who was responsible for what happened at the last heists._ And a second thought, right on the heels of the first. _What if KID is right?_

The man speaks into the phone again.

“Good, is everything set up on your end?”

A pause.

“And you can see the window clearly? There can be no misses this time.”

Another, slightly shorter pause.

“I look forward to seeing your performance, Chianti.”

_KID was right._

A feeling of dread settles deep in his stomach. Anyone who’s tangled with the Black Org has never, never had a good end to their story. Ever.

_And if the Black Org are the ones after KID…_

* * *

Conan manages to catch up with KID, who’s hiding, not in the third room as he predicted, but in the connected bathroom. He walks in, and there’s KID, sitting on the toilet, wrapping his arm with a long length of gauze.

He looks at the wound with a critical eye. Long and shallow, so troublesome but not deadly.

“You alright?”

“Why, tantei-kun, it’s like you care about little old me!”

KID’s grin is a little more crooked than usual, and Conan knows that he’s just as shaken about this as Conan is.

“Look, this is no time to joke. Someone’s out for your life, and there’s a sniper waiting for you to exit the building from any of your usual spots. You need a quick way out of here.”

KID looks at him then. His eyes are bright and clear ( _good, no signs of shock there_ ).

“Where’d you get this info?”

“Someone was in the next room over, talking on a phone to… someone I know is a sniper. At least, the codename is.”

KID doesn’t say anything. He finishes winding up the dressing, tucks in the end, and stands up again. He looks at Conan, and Conan looks back at him. KID sighs.

“Thanks for the tip, tantei-kun. Looks like I’m going to have to do this the hard way, once more. Ah well, good practice.”

Conan nods.

“Be sure that you’re alone when you do it. They have eyes and ears everywhere.”

KID smiles.

“Alright. You have fun too, and make sure the crows don’t catch wind of you here. Also, I want my other hat back!”

“Yeah, yeah. Next time, then.”

He turns and starts to wipe up the blood that KID left behind on the seat. Then he realizes something.

“Crows?”

But KID is already gone. When he leaves, the room next door is also empty, and the lights are off. It’s like no one was ever in that room, or the bathroom.

_A whole mansion full of disappearing figures. Might as well add one more._

* * *

He manages to find Ran and Sonoko back in the room where the theft occurred.

“Where were you, Conan-kun? We were worried!”

“Hey, brat, you can’t just run off and obstruct adults from doing their job, okay? Next time you need to go somewhere, you let me or Ran know.”

He rubs his head and glares.

“Sorry, I had to go to the bathroom.”

“Well, alright. But next time you tell us before you leave, not after.”

“Yes, Ran-neechan. I’m sorry if I worried you, it was really urgent!”

“Let’s go, Conan-kun, Sonoko.”

They head down the stairs, past a fuming Inspector Nakamori and a miffed Uncle Jirokichi, and towards the front doors. There are several police officers hovering around and a large crowd just beyond the barricade, filled with KID fans, news outlet reporters, and the bored and curious citizens of Beika Town.

One of the police officers winks as Conan walks past, and he nearly does a double take as he recognizes KID’s familiar curly locks.

 _I’ll get you next time,_ he mouths.

KID raises an eyebrow and smirks.

_See you next time, tantei-kun._

* * *

“He’s the one in the front, holding the door open.”

“I see him. Permission to fire?”

“Shoot him.”

* * *

Later, when they ask him to recount what happened, he says, “It happened so quickly.”

He says, “I don’t know where it came from, or how they knew. It just –” And he will break down, fake-crying, as a stressed six-year-old might.

He does not say, “It was the Black Organization, and I know some of their members, and I’m pretty sure I know who did it.”

He does not say “I know who did it, because they tried to get rid of me, and actually I’m Kudou Shinichi.”

Later, much, much later, when Ran is finally tucking him into bed, she will kiss his forehead and sit with him as he slowly falls asleep.

She will wish that he didn’t have to see it. She will wish that none of them had to see it, that none of this would have happened if only she didn’t insist on going to the KID heist. She wishes that the young child sleeping on the bed didn’t have to see a man shot to death in front of him.

She will go to bed, and she will dream of a young man with piercing blue eyes, and a bullet in the dark. She will dream of death and loss and grief, and she will wake with tears in her eyes and a need to make a phone call.

But for now, they laugh and smile as they walk out of the doors of the Suzuki mansion.

The noise of the crowd drowns out the gunshot.

The bullet travels, noiselessly and unerringly, towards its target.

It spirals through the air. There is no freak wind, no random bird, no deus ex machina. Not this time.

It travels through centimeters of flesh and bone and lodges itself in the brain of a young man.

The young police officer holding the door open drops. “Just – collapsed, like a puppet with its strings cut”, one of the other officers will later say. “Just, one moment he was holding the door, and then he collapses. There wasn’t even that much blood. He just – just fell.”

The crowd falls silent. Then someone screams.

* * *

Inspector Megure looks at the case file at the top of his incoming box. He picks it up. The words “Kaitou KID” are penciled on the front in neat, large letters. He flips it open.

Behind the eyewitness testimonies (of which Conan’s is one of them, why is that kid at _every crime scene_ , don’t the Mouris know that kids should have a childhood?), the incident report, and the autopsy report are the DNA tests that Forensics ordered.

His face is drawn immediately to the picture of the smiling young man who looks so much like Shinichi-kun but isn’t, and the name that sits next to it in bold, typed letters.

 _Kuroba Kaito_.

He reads the entire file, as is his duty to do so.

Smart kid, great grades. Lived alone, deceased relatives. Apparently he had dumplings that night, before he went on his heist. The bullet killed him near-instantly.

Megure resolves to talk to Shinichi the next time the boy calls. The two of them look very much alike – perhaps this was a premediated murder, and the murderer had the wrong boy.

If so, they needed to talk.

* * *

Conan wakes up. Somewhere deep inside, something stagnated that night KID was killed in front of his eyes. He doesn’t want to eat, doesn’t want to go to school, doesn’t want to move.

He knows Ran is worried, and even Mouri’s making noises about how this is unusual, but he just can’t bring himself to move.

He rolls over and stares out of the window.

 _The sky is so blue today,_ he thinks.

His eyes wander over to his closet, where KID’s hat still resides.

Outside, a crow caws.

* * *

_With silver bells, and cockle shells,_

_And pretty maids all in a row._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet you didn't see *that* coming!
> 
> stay tuned next for: massive amounts of angst, more black org things, and quite a proper little revenge plot. maybe.
> 
> (also many, many apologies for the delay in updating. i got sidetracked into another fandom for a bit, and then school decided to throw all of the deadlines at me at once... hopefully i'll be done writing the next section soon-ish)


	3. The Dead March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things go from worse to even worse, and Conan is not in a good mental state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wauuugh sorry for the immense delay i thought i'd have my life together but it's been a bad few months. but here we are, dear readers, here we are. back with another update, and in a pretty different direction from what i guess most of you were expecting? >:)

The classroom is noisy with the usual chatter.

“It’s so glad to see you back in school, Conan! We heard you were out sick, did you go off solving crimes on your own again without us?”

The Detective Boys crowd around him. Haibara hangs back as usual, listening to him grumble the usual greetings and half-muttered comments (“no, I was just sick”, “I’m better now, I’m just tired”, “I’m not contagious, I did take my medicine”, and “of course I did my homework, Genta, and no, you can’t copy it, that would defeat the purpose of homework”). Conan looks – tired, for lack of a better word. His eyes are ringed by dark bruises, and every now and then his responses are a half beat too slow. Haibara shoots him a sharp look; they need to talk after class.

Kobayashi-sensei walks in, the class scatter to their seats, and normalcy returns.

All the while, Haibara watches him out of the corner of her eye. He keeps up the ruse very well, looks just interested enough in all the right places, but she knows that there’s something wrong with him. There’s a certain fragility to him, something delicate and slowly shattering, melting away like snowflakes in the sun.

She wonders if it has anything to do with the heist.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You know, if you’re tired, you’re a much easier target for the BO.”

“I’m _fine_ , Haibara. Just got over a cold. Leave me be, alright?”

She shrugs. He turns to leave. As his hand turns the knob, she throws one last barb.

“Remember, they’re always watching.”

The door off the roof slams, and she watches the kids on the grass below, playing without a care in the world.

* * *

When Ran goes up to his room that night, she sees him playing with the white top hat he got a while back. It looks remarkably familiar, but she can’t remember why. It looks like a carefully crafted hat, bound with a blue silk ribbon, perched on the head of a famous magician in the moonlight…

“Conan-kun! Is that KID’s top hat?”

He stares up at her, face set in a blank expression.

“It’s not, Ran-neechan. I’m just playing with a hat that my friend gave me. He’s a huge fan of KID and he’s into doing KID cosplays. That’s all.”

She stares at him, and his blankness is unnerving her. It’s like the lethargy he displayed over a week ago, after that awful heist. It’s funny; they’ve seen so many murders and violent attempts, but something about an innocent being shot at what should have been a completely harmless event has changed him. Changed her. Changed them all.

She can’t even tell if he’s fully aware of where he is or what he’s doing, because even as she’s watching him, his fingers are turning the hat over and over in his hands. Around and around and around…

“Did you need anything, Ran-neechan?”

She startles. “Oh! Nothing much. I was just worried. You’ve been so quiet, are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor? Are you feeling sick?”

He blinks, and his hands still. Then he plasters on a wide grin.

“Nope, I’m fine! Just tired from school.”

“Alright, if you’re sure… I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“Thanks!”

The minute she closes the door behind her, Conan lets the grin slide off his face. He stares intently at the hat, hoping that the very act will cause it to regurgitate something more than what he’s seen so far.

Maybe, just maybe, KID’s not dead after all. The shooting was too easy. There had to be something else, something that’s glaringly obvious, it’s staring him in the face but he’s not seeing it!

He just has to think harder about it, and see what other clues the hat will give. One day, it’ll spill its secrets ( _just like its owner_ , a part of his mind whispers). Until then, he just has to wait and watch.

* * *

Life goes on, as usual. Even when you are sixteen-turned-six and had a murder of someone you strongly thought was a phantom thief on the side of justice happen right in front of your eyes, things still happen. Murders keep happening.

This time, nobody catches on until it’s almost too late. The first ones happen in Kunitachi, which technically falls within the Tokyo Metropolitan Police’s jurisdiction, but the children have been missing for two days before the parents report the incident.

There’s nothing to do. There’s nothing they can do when, after four hours of searching and one smart dog, they come across a child’s pink shoe beside a dumpster, open it up, and tape off the scene. The mother is young and dark-haired and pretty, and she falls to her knees screaming as her blank-eyed, similarly young husband holds her tight.

The bodies (and they’re so small) are covered with a single sheet, but not before Conan catches a glimpse of short black hair, one strand of which is slicked up at the back into a cowlick, and pretty blue eyes, wide open and unseeing.

Conan will never be able to forget that mother’s scream.

_Did his mother scream like that, when the police came and told her about her son?_

_Did he even have family?_

They do an autopsy, with the family’s permission. One of them, the boy, killed by an unknown drug which doesn’t register anywhere in the system. And the girl, a gunshot wound to the abdomen.

The shot, that’s normal. But the drug? That screams Black Org to Conan, but why would they be interested in a bunch of children?

 _Unless_ , his mind whispers _, the parents…_

But no, the police run background checks, and they are clean. Just the right amount of small details to not be fabricated, just the right amount of unsavory things for them to not be Black Org related. They’re just an ordinary couple with children who no longer are.

In the flurry of paperwork that happens afterwards, they almost all miss the next one. Almost, except for the fact that Kogorou watches television when he’s drunk and the noise echoes through the apartment.

“This is Yamano, reporting live from the Tokyo Disney Resort, where two six-year-old twins have been missing since earlier this morning. The police have issued a new statement, saying that they are hopeful they know where the children are, but ask the public to not take any actions that could possibly endanger them –”

An explosion, muffled by Kogorou’s snores and the announcer’s hand on the mic, rings through the tinny speakers. There is screaming in the background, and a sudden puff of smoke from one of the upstairs windows.

“Viewers, I am currently being asked to evacuate, but will report in with updates at the earliest opportunity.”

Conan drops his pencil, snatches up his phone, and calls Inspector Megure.

They get the file from the Chiba police a few days later. Twins, two boys. Their pictures stare up accusingly at Conan from underneath the clear plastic cover, and it’s similar enough that from afar, they and Conan could pass as cousins.

Both boys, bodies vaporized in separate explosions, in the same hotel room. One of them on a plush sofa near the window, which was what caused the smoke in the television program. The other on a chair near the computer.

The police are frantic and scramble madly to try and find some connection between the cases. Their pictures are studied and analyzed closely, but to no avail, besides a similarity in facial features. The police issue a warning: all elementary-aged twins with black hair and blue eyes should be kept as safe as possible, to prevent the attackers from exploiting a weak point.

There are probably several tens of twins that match that description in Beika alone. Hell, if Conan had a twin, he would be subject to the same…

 _Oh, stupid_ , his brain says.

It’s a message, signed with a large black “FUCK YOU” from the Black Org, addressed directly to him. But why twins?

Between this newest case, the previous ones, and the mystery of KID’s top hat, it’s no wonder he falls asleep in class with his head pillowed on his arms.

In his dream, he sees a pair of bright, violet eyes on the face of a teenager who looks much like he did – does, as Kudo Shinichi. For some reason, he just knows that that is the face of Kaitou KID. He approaches, but as he does he starts to shrink, and –

The shrill chime of the bell wakes him, and Ayumi is poking him repeatedly.

“Conan-kun, it’s not nice to sleep during class! You’re disrespecting the teacher!”

He yawns and stretches. She looks more closely at him.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Conan-kun? You look kind of like the pandas we saw at the zoo two weeks ago.”

“Mm, yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well, Kogorou-ojiisan was being noisy.”

She clucks sympathetically but lets it go, and he lets himself sink into the normal routine of school for just a little while.

It’s interrupted by the police car with the flashing sirens parked on the curb when he walks back to the apartment. Inside, Inspector Megure is talking in low tones to Kogorou, while Ran hangs around offering tea and snacks. As he enters, Megure and Kogorou both shoot identical looks of concern in his direction.

“That’s all from me, Mouri-kun. Just don’t forget.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure he’s safe.”

And Megure, with a nod to Ran, kneels down in front of Conan.

“Your Kogorou-ojiisan is going to tell you about something we need you to do, okay?”

Conan furrows his eyebrows. What do they think they’re doing? He’s six, not stupid, and – oh. With the recent string of murders and Conan’s involvement in multiple cases recently, they must think someone’s out to get him.

Well, they’re not wrong. But this, this isn’t a threat. It’s a sign.

He opens his mouth to speak, realizes who he’s speaking as, and closes it again.

* * *

It’s the standard offer of protection – Kogorou will make sure he gets to and from school safely, if that’s what he wants, otherwise Ran will walk with him until he meets up with his friends. He nods, because fighting against them on this is too much work.

In the midst of all this hype about the murders and about upcoming midterms, Hattori calls with more bad news. Another of the same, twins, in an apartment overlooking a busy intersection in Daito.

“It’s pretty bad, Kudo. ‘m not at the scene, the old man wouldn’t let me, but from what I found it was pretty gruesome. One kid’s OD’ed on sleeping pills, the other one’s a charred corpse. Both of them looked like you. What’d ya do recently, piss some big bad off?”

“Maybe,” Shinichi says shortly, and hangs up.

What is the message they’re trying to send? Young children, twins, that look kind of like him, dead in different ways, in different cities. It’s frustrating how little they have to go off, and how little they know. For the first time in over a week, he looks at KID’s top hat, discarded in the corner, and suddenly something clicks into place.

Twins, and the dream with the man that looked like him. Deaths that were so familiar to him, for some reason he couldn’t remember. Three cities: Kunitachi, Urayasu, Daito, and in English, letters. Letters that spell out a name.

K-U-D-O.

_They know._

Because what else would explain the obsession with twins of a certain age with a certain look, in three specific cities? Twins that just happened to look like Conan did – like Kudo Shinichi did, like Kaitou KID had.

The Black Org knew, and they wanted to let him know. Just that, and nothing more.

There would be one more, he knew. One more, in a city starting with an O, somewhere near either Tokyo or Osaka.

But where? There were too many cities, too many towns. So he turns to the next best thing he can do.

Mitigate the damage.

* * *

 

It’s weeks before something turns up, but eventually something does. A man is stopped on a busy street in Osaka as he tries to lead two young girls away form their mother, who was separated from them in the shopping complex. The man is tall, burly, and wearing all black.

The police jump him, but he bites through the poison capsule he’s stored in his molar and dies rapidly afterwards.

Conan knows, without hearing a word more, that once more, the Black Org has slipped through their trap as cleanly and neatly as can be. He kicks the wall once, twice, three times, and something soft falls onto his head.

KID’s hat, from where he had haphazardly tossed it into his closet earlier. It’s soft, and the white material is starting to gather dust, but it reminds him, inexplicably, of KID’s last smirk.

He doesn't know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos to you if you could spot the references! (also, if you're wondering how this all fits together in the master plan, think about this case and the last case - the one with all the mutilated dead people and what message it might be sending to conan specifically. that's all i'll say here)
> 
> if you wanna chat/hit me up with theories/idk, talk about stuff, you can find me on discord: jmoon#0444


	4. author's note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brief note: work on hiatus

This work is going on temporary hiatus for one [1] reason:  
I LOST MY LAPTOP TO COFFEE AND MY DRAFT OF THE NEXT THREE-ISH CHAPTERS WERE ON THAT LAPTOP TT/\TT  
thankfully i should be able to retrieve those files, just need to get that computer out to the repairpeople asap

this note will be removed once i recover those files


End file.
